12 Days of Ichigo Torture
by Sahara Storm
Summary: [Complete, IchiRuki] Dreams crumble like walls of sanity. Balance is shaky, fear is a necessity. [A series of fics in which Ichigo is tortured.] [12: He feels like a broken monarch who cannot hold on to the reins of his stallion.]
1. And Then You Have to Bring It Up

Okay! This will be a collection of 12 unrelated drabbles/fics, in which Ichigo is in some way tortured, according to a given theme. There will be crack, angst and porn. Aren't you all excited? XDDD

This was written, as is told by the title, for the 12 Days of Ichigo Torture Challenge over at the IchiRuki Community on LiveJournal. (Thank you to the mods for arranging such an awesome fest!) Therefore, if there is a pairing, you can expect it to be IchiRuki.

Since all 12 fics have already been written, there should be no problem with updating. Operative word being SHOULD. Since this is Sahara Storm, who tends to update Once Every When She Remembers, there prolly **will** be lags in updates. Sorry. Feel free to give me a little poke if I don't update in three days or more, kay? (((:

I don't think I have anything else to say, so… let's get started!

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**Title:** And Then You Have To Bring It Up 

**Fandom:** Bleach

**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia

**Rating: **PG

**Word Count:** 484

**Summary/Description:** Ichigo is… flummoxed. Rukia is angry. This is all Ichigo's fault. Because Rukia says so.

**Warning/Spoilers:** A little language, nothing much.

**A/N:** **Day 1: Gulit Trip. **LOL, looking at the other entries for today, I think I'm the only one who went for the lulz as opposed to the angst. XD

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

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"You're an asshole and I HATE YOU." It was said in… anger, to be ridiculously euphemistic. 

Ichigo sidled his eyes to the side, not quite knowing what to say.

"Um. Sorry."

"Sorry isn't ENOUGH, you ingrate, you lummox, you –" Rukia heaved harshly, sweat pouring down her face. "You _bastard_." Her hand held his hard enough to break bone.

"Err," offered Ichigo, a tad helplessly.

"You know, this is ALL YOUR FAULT," Rukia continued, gasping heavily. "And don't give me any nonsense about it being a joint effort, something that we both contributed to; it's YOUR FAULT." She ground her teeth; Ichigo swore he could hear it. "You degenerate fool. I HATE YOU."

Ichigo glanced heavenward, then at the skull attached to his waist, hoping for some Hollow to start terrorising Karakura Town NOW. Where had his plump, rosy, pleasant-faced and only slightly hostile wife of only five hours ago gone anyway?

He wasn't given long to think about it; his father came up behind him and blindsided him with a kick to the jaw that had him flying across the room.

Instead of stars, he saw red-eyed cherubs shooting daggers at him.

When he next looked over, Isshin was clasping Rukia's hands.

"Oh, Masaki!" he lamented. "Where did I go wrong in raising our son that he would bring our dear new daughter such pain?" Tears streamed down his rugged face. "I am ashamed. ASHAMED, I SAY!"

Ichigo started to roll his eyes, but stopped at a look from Rukia.

"Get over here!" she snapped. "You should be holding my bloody hand!"

Ichigo blamed his excellent reflexes for the fact that he was over at her side in two seconds flat.

"This is all your fault, you moron," she saw fit to remind him again.

"Breathe, Rukia-chan, breathe," Isshin reminded her after glaring at his son.

She complied, then took a swing at Ichigo, who was luckily able to dodge by the breadth of a hair. He looked extremely harried.

"I _apologised_," he muttered beneath his breath. "Not that I see why I _have_ to."

"_Not that you see why you have to?!_" Rukia fairly shrieked. "IF I WERE NOT IN SEVERE PAIN I WOULD—AUGH." She cut herself off with a guttural groan, face contorted in pain. Ichigo watched in horror, and felt his fingers go numb.

"Kurosaki-san," said Rukia weakly, when she could manage, "they're… they're getting worse."

"It's okay, my daughter, just breathe," Isshin crooned soothingly, and punched his son in the face. "Yuzu, you can start bringing in the water and towels now!"

Ichigo massaged his face as best as he could with one hand. His brows knitted together in frustration.

"I thought this was supposed to be a _happy_ time in a man's life."

"SHUT UP," Rukia snarled, and took a deep breath. "Just remember: this is all your fault. I AM NEVER HAVING SEX WITH YOU AGAIN."

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**A/N:** Haha. :) 

Love to hear your comments.


	2. Out of the Mouth of a Goddess

Next one up! That didn't take to long. Thank you for all your kind comments.

Just to clarify, none of these fics are going to be actual physical torture, like, Ichigo getting his tongue cut off, or his nails pulled out. We were free to interpret it in that way, but I didn't. I wrote porn and crack and ANGST LIKE NO TOMORROW and crack. :D Just to clear that up.

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**Title:** Out of the Mouth of a Goddess

**Fandom:** Bleach

**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia

**Rating: **Hard R.

**Word Count:** 284

**Summary/Description:** Ichigo is not cooperating.

**Warning/Spoilers:** Smut, and some language.

**A/N:** **Day 2: Tongue Lashing. **Sing it with me children: The Internet is for pr0n!

**Disclaimer:** Bleach © Kuto Tite.

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A bead of sweat trickled slowly down his face. He bit his lips, curled and uncurled his fingers. She did not let go of his hands.

"Keep still," she said huskily. Her warm breath washed over the head of his erection; he gave an involuntary jerk.

"Rukia," he moaned, expression contorted. _Do something_, he willed her silently. _Please_.

"Yes?" she drawled, this time letting the tip of her tongue touch the thickness of his sex. The feeing of the cool, slick moisture on his heated, sensitive skin almost made him bite his tongue. He groaned, and stiffened even further.

"I want…" he trailed off breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut.

She licked him again, this time, a broad stripe from base to tip. His hips moved of their own accord, two tiny pulsations.

"You want…?"

Her tongue lapped around the head, wetting him, tasting him. Ichigo tried to form words to tell her, but failed. His mind was a smorgasbord of jumbled words and phrases and wants and _needs_, his body a plain for feeling and sensation.

"Oh _fuck_," he ground out on a burst of air, eyes wide as Rukia sucked gently on the underside of him, tongue rubbing against the vein. He thrust his hips upward mindlessly as his fingers scrambled against the bed sheets.

The petite woman before him raised an eyebrow, almost in amusement. _Almost_.

"Colourful language," she commented, and took a few seconds to nibble on the foreskin. Ichigo thought he would go mad. "And I expressly told you not to move." She gave a dark smirk. "I'm going to have to give you a thorough _talking to_."

She lowered her head in agonising slowness, and Ichigo's mind effectively shut down.

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**A/N:** Haha, that was kinda corny. :P

But hey! It was porn. ♥


	3. The Downside of Yuzu's Cooking

**Title:** The Downside of Yuzu's Cooking  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG-13.  
**Word Count:** 380  
**Summary/Description:** Ichigo's sub-consciousness is a masochist.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** Err, some PG-13 themes, and OOC for crack/humour purposes.  
**A/N:** **Day 3: Whipped.** Day 3, and I haven't written angst yet. …WHO IS THIS GIRL AND WHAT DID SHE DO WITH SAHARA.  
**Disclaimer:** Yes, I have several bottles beneath the sink.

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"You look beautiful," he said with a sweet smile. It was true. In an elegant lilac dress, delicate shoes, and sparse, but lovely adornments, Rukia was a vision of loveliness...

"I know. Not get me my shawl; I'm cold, damn it."

…Until she opened her mouth.

Ichigo scrambled for the sheer material that was draped over the back of the couch. Gently, he covered her petite shoulders with it, completing the picture of her perfection. She acknowledged him with a quick, sharp nod.

"Very good. Now. Where are you taking me?" She inspected her nails while asking the question.

Ichigo grinned.

"Well, I was thinking of taking you to that nice place near the museum, the one with the—"

"I hate that place." She picked a piece of lint off of her dress, and left Ichigo gaping.

"B-but, you told me that you _loved_ that place!"

"Not anymore. Where are we going?" she reiterated.

"Uhhhh…" The orange-haired boy fumbled. "Well, I guess, we could…"

"How about that new place over on High Street? The Laughing Buddha."

Ichigo blanched.

"Unless it's too expensive for you." Her eyebrow arched high, and Ichigo all but set a fire under his face to get the colour back into his cheeks.

"Nonononononono, of course, that's perfectly fine, my dear." He smiled widely, reassuring her with his eyes. "I'll just have to… uh… make a quick stop at the ATM."

"Very good." Her face was set seriously. "We can be on our way now."

She walked a few paces in front of him, at a fast, efficient clip, before stopping abruptly. Her stance seemed strange, and she had a hand resting on her stomach.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" he asked in concern, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged the hand off in annoyance. She was frowning, which never really boded well.

"I… I think I may have gotten my period."

…Ichigo didn't know what to say to that.

"I will need tampons."

…_Oh_.

All she needed to do was give him a sharp look, and he straightened, all smiles.

"Of course, my dear, anything at all for you. What kind would you like, light, regular, or—"

* * *

Ichigo woke up screaming.

He was never having curry before going to bed _ever again_.

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**A/N:** Okay, I will ttly write something serious next time, trufax. 


	4. It Pours

Um, I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, so just to clear it up: all of the fics in this challenge have already been completed, right up to Day 12. So... I won't be able to take your requests. Sorry.

Anyway, on with the fic. I promised angst, didn't I?

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**Title:** It Pours  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Implied Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 235  
**Summary/Description:** When it rains…  
**Warning/Spoilers:** I hear that some people find second person 'pretentious'. (shrug) And there's angst.  
**A/N:** **Day 4: Water.** Angst. _Here_ we go.  
**Disclaimer:** Yes, I have several bottles beneath the sink.

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You have been defeated. 

Your opponent arches above you like a stone pillar of strength and complacency and assuredness; effortless in his power, merciless in his victory. He does not have to say a word; you see it in his eyes and his stance and his expression and his utter contempt for you; a ragged boy with a power you cannot understand, a torn warrior who does not know his place.

_You are nothing._

Your wounds are your keepsakes; you will never forget. Your mind is telling your body to move but your body is detached from everything that makes it fight, and your pale grim opponent dismisses you as easily as a passing cloud that will not even amount to a summer drizzle.

Your blood pours onto the ground, spreads over it like a lover.

Your opponent dismisses you, and what makes you fight and what you fight to protect is right behind him, sorrow in her eyes and knives in her voice.

She turns away from you, and castles crumble.

The first drop hits you like an anvil. The others follow like needles; they do not look like they should hurt, but as soon as they hit you, you wonder how anyone could say they have felt pain, they have felt agony, if they have not felt _this_.

In seconds, you are soaked. It is cold, but nowhere as cold as you are.

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**A/N:** I hate writing angst. :( 

Feedback is nice, etc, etc.


	5. Thank God He's Not Dating Orihime

**Title:** Thank God He's Not Dating Orihime  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG-13.  
**Word Count:** 294  
**Summary/Description:** It's time for Ichigo to admit he's got a problem.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** None, unless you're REAL conservative.  
**A/N:** **Day 5: The Rack.** And we're back to the lulz! (: Surprisingly enough, I really had to wrack my brains to write this. A part of me really wanted to fic Ichigo being stretched and tortured. Hm.  
**Disclaimer:** Bleach does not belong to me.

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"Rukia, have you seen my white shirt? I swore I put it on the--- GYARRRGH."

As amusing as it was to see Ichigo hunched over with his hands over his eyes and a blush staining his cheeks, Rukia couldn't help but be a little annoyed. There was no need for the histrionics.

"It wasn't 'GYARRRGH' last night," she said dryly, and continued applying lotion to her arms.

"That was different," he snapped, peeking at her through his fingers. After seeing that she was still in the same state of undress, he turned away. "I was _supposed_ to be seeing you with your top off then."

Rukia shrugged, and picked up her bra off the bed. Relieved, Ichigo finally stepped fully into the room and closed the door.

"I still don't see what's so offensive about a pair of breasts," she was saying as she slipped the straps onto her shoulders.

Ichigo frowned.

"Nothing. Just. I'm not supposed to be seeing them. Unless. …You know." He started to turn pink again, and Rukia raised a brow, smirking.

"So…" she drawled, and let the bra straps slide back down her arms, walking up to him. "If I were to—"

"I would say we have a function to go to," he said quickly, and dodged left. Rukia rolled her eyes.

"Your mother had breasts, you know," she reminded him as she put her bra back on and fastened the clasp.

He grimaced.

"Don't be vulgar. _Anyway_, have you seen my white shirt?"

The brunette picked up her dress, and slid him a lidded look.

"Yes, Ichigo, I have. You are wearing it."

"…Oh."

She fitted her head through the neck of the dress and snorted.

"Like you'd ever have the stomach to walk around topless."

"Hey!"

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**A/N:** I am… not pleased with this. But hey, I wrote it.

Please point out any typos you find. This was a real rush job.


	6. Throw the Demon Over Your Shoulder

**Title:** Throw the Demon Over Your Shoulder; It'll Climb Up Your Back  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG.  
**Word Count:** 677  
**Summary/Description:** It's a beautiful day, and Ichigo is close to tears.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** A couple of minor references to sorta recent chapters, 260-70, thereabouts. I dunno, I don't remember. ANGST.  
**A/N:** **Day 6: Silent Treatment.** I outright don't like this fic.  
**Disclaimer:** Bleach does not belong to me.

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It's a beautiful day, and Ichigo is close to tears.

The cool, sweet mountain air has always done wonders for clearing his head and calming him down, but today, one year from the day the dome of his sky came crashing down on him, it is all that he can do to keep the water behind his eyes.

Karin and Yuzu are still at their mother's grave, paying homage to her as they usually do. A little higher up, he stands at Rukia's, trying to keep the contents of his soul from pouring out. Isshin is standing next to him, quiet, but yet not solemn, halfway through his first cigarette. He had offered him one, and Ichigo had almost accepted before he remembered the way her nose used to crinkle when she smelt cigarette smoke, like it was the dumbest, most offensive thing in the world. He declined.

There are light blue flowers lying before the stone marker, cuddled against a white, stuffed bunny. The sun is shining directly into its cold, beady eyes, giving them warmth, and making them shine.

Ichigo slams his hands into his pockets. There is so much he has to say...

Did she know that he still has that note she wrote him so long ago, when she left for the first time? He had tucked it between the pages of his history textbook, and it is still there. He re-reads it sometimes, and rolls his eyes at her funny characters and ugly drawings. Did she know that there had been things that Renji had misunderstood (or understood all too well) and he had punched Ichigo in the face before making him promise to guard her life with his? Did she know that he hadn't had a single argument with anyone since she died? Did she know that his closet (_her_ closet) had been kept exactly that same way she had left it?

Did she know that when he had held her tiny, lifeless body in his arms that cold day in Hueco Mundo, kissing her gently on the lips, it had been his first?

Ichigo clenches his fists, and wants to kill Aizen and each and every goddamned one of those Arrancar all over again.

There is a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not going to have to tell you all over again that it isn't your fault, am I?" Isshin asks, not looking at him.

"No." Ichigo shakes his head. "You don't." He knows all too well where to lay the blame.

They spend a few minutes in silence that feels like punishment.

"Pops," he begins a few minutes later, and feels like an idiot already. His dad turns to face him, wearing a questioning expression. "Do you... when you... you know, talk to Mom... does she... does she answer?" He feels silly, both for asking such an inane question, and for prying into his father's thoughts, but the question had to be asked.

The immediate answer is a hearty laugh and a smack to the head.

"Of course she does! Foolish boy." He takes a long satisfying drag, while Ichigo rubs his head and glares, waiting for him to get to the point. "But she only began replying about five years ago."

Ichigo waits, then sighs. He wouldn't go on until he asked.

"What happened five years ago?" he asks.

"I got rid of all of the guilt inside me." Isshin turns to give his son a meaningful look. "I stopped blaming myself, and started looking forward instead of back." He slaps him roughly on the back. "That's what you have to do. Until then... I don't know. Think about it."

He starts making his way back down the path, not looking back once.

Ichigo shuts his eyes. It all sounded nice in theory, but...

It is an hour before he speaks again. There is nothing momentous or particularly meaningful about it; he simply looks the bunny in the eye, and says,

"I wish you could have known."

He waits for a long time, but there is no reply.

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**A/N:** Bah.

But I appreciate your comments.


	7. Throw Out the Adages

Um, guys? Another heads up. These fics are about _torture_. Ichigo is not going to be enjoying ANY of them (unless it's porn, and even that is questionable). Even when the fics are humorous, they will only be humorous to us, NOT Ichigo. So, um, that bit in the summary was just for laughs, really.

Hope that clears things up for you, **Final Fight**.

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**Title:** Throw Out the Adages

**Fandom:** Bleach

**Pairing:** None. Ichigo-centric.

**Rating:** PG.

**Word Count:** 175

**Summary/Description:** It's time to redefine.

**Warning/Spoilers:** None, unless you're way far behind, like before chapter 200.

**A/N:** **Day 7: Dominance.** This can take place during any one of Ichigo's fights with Grimmjow; pick your choose.

**Disclaimer:** Bleach does not belong to me.

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Dominance isn't strength, he remembers his father telling him. 

It's what he has always preached to him, since he was a little boy. His mother dried his tears whenever a day at the dojo hadn't gone too well, and his father comforted him with rough knuckles to his head and gruff words: _Just because they're controlling and bossy and physically powerful, does not make them strong._

Real strength was mountains more than that. It was a test of mental and emotional fortitude; of the mettle in your bones, rather than the muscles in your arms. A razor sharp dagger of ice would melt in the sun, but a sliver of oak wood could last for years.

Real strength was something you were either born with, or cultivated over a long period of time, and the mere act of dominating someone was not even comparable.

Then, he supposes sardonically, blood clouding his vision, the man towering over him with a jagged-edged grin, mocking words and barely a scratch on him, is as weak as a kitten.

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**A/N:** Another sorta rushed thing. Mm. :/ 

Feedback loved.


	8. And Then There'll Be Oversized Plushies

**Title:** And Then There Will Be Oversized Plushies in the Dining Room  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG-13.  
**Word Count:** 114  
**Summary/Description:** She'd like to think of it as practised persuasion.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** None.  
**A/N:** **Day 8: Brainwashing.** LOL, this is stretching the prompt a little, I think. And damn, I wanted to make this a true drabble. :(  
**Disclaimer:** KT's the man.

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Bossy, out of touch with the world, and topped by juice boxes she might be, but no one could ever say that Rukia wasn't clever.

Tiny fingers danced down his chest.

"Don't you think we should get some Chappy the Bunny bed sheets for the master bedroom?" she said in a variation of her faux-sweet, lady like voice. It was in complete contrast to the devilish way she eyed the waist band of his pants. "They would go beautifully with the fluffy pink curtains I put up last week."

The fingers traced the fine definition in his abdomen, and Ichigo sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course," he said, eyes glazed. "Anything you want."

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**A/N:** Haha, Rukia decorating the house. IT WOULD BE A NIGHTMARE. 


	9. The Apple and the Tree

**Title:** The Apple and the Tree  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** None. Ichigo and Isshin centric.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 444  
**Summary/Description:** Confidence can lend you strength. Cockiness will get you killed. It's time for Ichigo to learn a lesson.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** There might be some OOC, but that's purely up to the reader's interpretation, I think.  
**A/N:** **Day 9: Humiliation.** Bah, I'm not really happy with this. I'm writing porn next time.  
**Disclaimer:** I ain't got nothin' on KT.

* * *

He doesn't see it coming until he's remembering it.

And then he's flat on his back with blood pouring out of a gash in his forehead and wondering whenever in the hell his father had gotten so fast on his feet.

It had been enough of a shock to learn that some idiot up in Soul Society had seen it fit to make his jackass of a father a Shinigami how many ever years ago. It would take him _quite_ a while to get used to that. He didn't think he could ever see the moron in a different light, but this new revelation was forcing him to. His father, a _Shinigami_. And a damn good one at that. Captain class, no less. _And_ he was in cahoots with Urahara-san, _and_ they were both now taking it upon themselves to train him.

He doesn't suppose they have ever heard of the concept of taking little steps at a time.

…Isshin is not smiling.

"You thought you could have dodged it." It is not a question. His father folds his arms across his chest, looks down on him and waits for him to answer. And when he begins to, Isshin interrupts him.

"You should have learnt by now that to underestimate your enemy is one of the gravest mistakes you can ever make, as a Shinigami, or as a plain person."

Ichigo tries to sit up, bracing himself on the palms of his hands.

"I didn't underestimate you," he says, his breathing laboured. It is not exactly a lie. "I just… I just thought that-"

"You thought what?" Isshin enquires, voice taut. Behind him, Urahara is silent.

Ichigo shrugs.

"I figured that I could handle you."

Isshin tilts his head.

"Of course. Because I have a stick thin zanpakutou that you know everything about, my fighting skills as a Shinigami should be easy to figure out since you've been tussling with me all your life, and besides, I'm nothing but your idiot father."

Ichigo wants to answer, but then there is a foot on his chest, pushing him back flat on his back. His father's beard is an inch away from grazing his chin. He is still not smiling.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice fairly tempered, but filled out with gravity. "Confidence can lend you strength. Cockiness will get you killed. It's time for you to learn the difference."

He backs off, and unsheathes his zanpakutou. Ichigo cannot quite look him in the eye. If he could, he would see that Isshin is expressionless as he glances back at Urahara.

"Come on, Kisuke. I think it's time to teach my son some humility."

* * *

**A/N:** Concrit would be nice. I think this is my first time trying out purely serious!Isshin. I'm not sure it worked.

If it seems kinda disjointed, it's because I actually started writing this for Day 7, then scrapped it, and reworked it for this prompt. :P Also, it ended abruptly on purpose.

And gyah, I'm not liking all this serious stuff. Srsly, there will be porn next time.


	10. Good Morning

**Title:** Good Morning  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** R.  
**Word Count:** 171  
**Summary/Description:** Some days, you just have to go with the flow.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** It's porny, but nothing much.  
**A/N:** **Day 10: Intimidation/Bullying.** What is the Internet for, again?  
**Disclaimer:** I ain't got nothin' on KT.

* * *

Ichigo wakes up, and there is a hand down his pants.

"What in the HELL are you doing?" he shrieks, and somewhere, a scientist is going to have to reconfigure the previous known limits for the pitch of the human voice.

There are worse ways to wake up, but Ichigo bets none of them would leave him this… flustered.

"Shut up and enjoy it," Rukia snaps, adjusting her position on his knees. Her hand is just big enough to wrap around his thickness, and she drags her fingertips up and then down the shaft, heat building beneath her fingers. Ichigo almost swallows his tongue. "You should be _thanking_ me."

He is going to point out that he didn't _ask_ for a morning hand-job (…it wasn't his birthday or anything, was it?) but Rukia's glare in juxtaposition with the way her small hand creates just the right amount of friction is slowly, but surely destroying every last one of his brain cells. Besides, she's topless.

So he shuts up, and enjoys it.


	11. On the Bright Side, There is None

Sorry this is so late, guys; had some Internet woes.

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**Title:** On the Bright Side, There is None  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** PG-13.  
**Word Count:** 637  
**Summary/Description:** Life is not fair, and Ichigo is getting better acquainted with his right hand.  
**Warning/Spoilers:** No spoilers, and it's pretty work-safe. Just… stuff.  
**A/N:** **Day 11: Deprivation.** Uh, I have nothing to say for this. Except that I was going to write something kinky except that I wasn't in the mood.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach, but Ichigo is in a cage under my bed. :D

* * *

"Yo, Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiichigo!"

The orange-haired man winced, and almost dropped the phone, rubbing his fingers across his eyes. He supposed he should have known better than to answer his phone on his wedding night at some ungodly hour – God, it was already two o'clock – because it was just _bound_ to be Keigo with something stupid and/or embarrassing to say.

"So, have you had sexually sexified sex as yet?"

Ichigo scowled, and burned red, wondering why he was only right when he didn't want to be.

"Well? Have you? Was it good? Well, of course it was good, it was Ru-"

"Keigo shut up right now or I will have to kill you," Ichigo snapped, half in alarm, half in flabbergasted anger.

"I understand," his friend said quickly. "But anyway, did you? Are you a MAN yet?"

Who had given him the freaking number for the hotel anyway? Ichigo could only think of one person who would want to bring him such pain, and had the same mindset as Keigo. He was going to _castrate_ his father, or at least the mental equivalent.

"Keigo, I do not know what time it is in Japan, but it is currently two oh nine in Trinidad. That's two oh nine _AM_. I am going to hang up now."

"Waitwaitwaitwait, but _did you_?" His friend's voiced was wired and insistent, and Ichigo realised he wasn't going to get rid of him this way. He might as well get over with it; they were all going to find out sooner or later when they got back to Japan; Karakura Town had no understanding of the word 'secret'. Nevertheless, he cringed before opening his mouth to say what he was going to say.

"No," he admitted.

There was a long, pregnant silence.

"…Why not?" Keigo sounded genuinely confused, as if he couldn't think of a reason why one would be on a honeymoon, with a pretty new wife, in the Caribbean, in a nice hotel, and _not_ be doing some cherry-popping.

Ichigo groaned. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Long story short: after we checked into the hotel around midday, Rukia heard that there was a celebration called Phagwah going on in the streets, and she wanted to go watch. It was messy and colourful and she enjoyed it. And then we went out to eat, and she ate too much. We came back to the hotel, and she fell asleep."

Another pause.

"And…?" Keigo tried when Ichigo did not continue.

"And she's still asleep," was the deadpan reply.

"OH," Keigo breathed, and Ichigo's scowl deepened. "I see. Damn."

"Yeah."

"…Are you still-?"

"I took care of it," he said shortly.

"Oh." Keigo paused thoughtfully, then started giggling. "Hey, haha, you had to masturbate on your honeymoon. That is kind of sad."

Ichigo wasn't smiling to begin with; he started not smiling even more.

"Hey, Keigo, if there had been a knife in my back, that would have been you, _twisting_ it _deeper_ and _spraying_ it with _salt_."

His friend did a poor job of trying to cover up his snort.

"Um, sorry. But anyway, the real reason why I called was to tell you this: remember that babe, Yuiko-chan, that I met for a couple dates?" He didn't wait for confirmation; his voice sparked with excitement. "Well, I _finally_ made it with her and it was-"

"I AM HANGING UP."

* * *

Two hours later, Ichigo was awoken again, this time by a pressing matter in his nether regions.

_Damn it_.

"Uh, Rukia?" He poked his wife of less than twenty-four hours in the shoulder. "Are you…?"

"Lemmealone," was the irritated, groggy reply.

Ichigo's face crumpled, and he ran his fingers through his hair. He gave it a few more half-hearted tries before slipping off the bed and trudging to the bathroom.

_Again_.

* * *

**A/N:** I kept cringing while I was writing this, because it truly would be horrible if a guy had to jerk off on his wedding night. ;;

And yeah, there probably isn't a phrase for 'sexually sexified sex' in Japanese, but wva, I really wanted Keigo to say it. :D

And yeah, I set it in Trinidad, because I WANTED TO. :P

And if you would like to culturally knowledgify yourself about Phagwah, copy and paste the following link into your browser, and remove the spaces: http://en. wikipedia. org/wiki/Holi. (There are some differences in the way Trinidadians celebrate it, I guess, but wva.)


	12. The King and his Horse

**Title:** The King and his Horse  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Pairing:** Ichigo/Rukia, Hollow!Ichigo/Rukia  
**Rating:** Hard R.  
**Word Count:** 1,081  
**Summary/Description:** Dreams crumble like walls of sanity. Balance is shaky, fear is a necessity. (He feels like a broken monarch who cannot hold on to the reins of his stallion.)  
**Warning/Spoilers:** Sex, strong language, dark themes, rape (sorry). No spoilers, unless you only follow the anime, and not the manga at all. And even then, I doubt there's anything to be spoilt.  
**A/N:** **Day 12: Bondage.** The date for this prompt was July 15th; Ichigo's birthday. LOL, I sure don't know how to write a happy birthday fic. Because this ain't happy. Poor Ichigo. Please heed the rating and warnings. Also: this is the third time I am writing porn for this thing. Woot.  
**Disclaimer:** Yes, I have several bottles beneath the sink.

* * *

The landscape is pale and grim, devoid of buildings or landmarks or anything to distinguish it, set it apart from the ashen grey tundra that it becomes. A lot of things about this place have changed. 

Rukia's screams colour the air.

"Let her go, you fucking bastard!" Ichigo roars, the words ripping and bleeding their way out of his throat. Sweat runs down his brow and into his eyes, mixing with the tears that he refuses to shed. "I'll fucking _kill_ you if you don't let her go right fucking _now_!"

The hollow turns away from where he is ravaging Rukia's breasts with his teeth and tongue, and it turns Ichigo's stomach, to see that disgusting, hateful leer on _his_ face.

"Now, how're ya gonna do that?" it asks in a casual drawl, chuckling as it eyes the bonds that tie Ichigo steadfastly to the pole. Ichigo growls, and fights against them even more, trying in vain to free himself. His inner counterpart derives much amusement from his actions, and it only makes Ichigo's blood boil even hotter. "'Sides," the hollow continues, turning back to its captive, running its white fingers down her bare stomach, and into the tangle of curls that cover her sex, "I think she likes it."

Ichigo's scream of rage rings out in unison with Rukia's scream of pain, and both make the hollow chortle gleefully. Ichigo can see the bastard's fingers moving roughly in and out of her, see how her face contorts in discomfort and pain, almost _feel_ the tears that stream down her face, and he has never felt this livid, or powerless in his entire life.

The hollow's laugh is dirty and ugly as it unzips its pants and takes out its penis. Ichigo thrashes even more wildly, tears beginning to slip out of his eyes and unto his cheeks, his yells of anger and desperation making his throat raw. His bonds cut into his wrists, but he cannot feel the pain; all he can feel is hers.

"Don't see why ya so upset," his double says conversationally, rubbing spit along its phallus, and positioning itself between Rukia's thighs. The tiny Shinigami is sobbing soundlessly and Ichigo's heart is shattering, shattering. "If she's yours, she's mine, ne?"

"_NO!_" he practically screeches, teeth bared, and blood thrumming just under his skin. He struggles to get free, struggles with all his might, but it is no use. He feels like a broken monarch who cannot hold on to the reins of his stallion.

"Aww, didn't anyone ever tell you that you should share?" the hollow enquires mockingly, and looks Ichigo straight in the eye when it thrusts in one quick, clean motion.

Twin screams of anguish rent the air.

* * *

_Dreams crumble like walls of sanity._

* * *

Rukia does not ask why when Ichigo suddenly rolls over and pulls her into his arms; she simply wraps her arms around his chest, and allows him to stroke her back, breathing heavily into the darkness of her hair.

And when he turns her onto her back and pulls at her clothing, she understands.

Despite his frantic actions, he is gentle, hands touching her as if she is porcelain. His fingertips brush her nipples to peaks, and she gasps into his shoulder, the sensation taking over her. And when he bends to take them into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over the hardened tips, she keens and writhes, moaning out her pleasure. Pleading words fall from her lips like petals, and she is not sure whether she is asking him to stop or continue.

He sheds the rest of their clothes with a barely controlled hand, while the other trails its way between her thighs to caress her, torture her sweetly. Both her eyes and her legs clamp shut tightly as she bites her lips in an effort to keep from crying out. Her hips sway of their own accord, rocking against his hand, seeking out friction. Meanwhile, his mouth has moved up to her own to kiss her into a heady whirl of abandon.

When he slides into her, she raises her hips to meet him, driving him in deeper. They both groan, and it is like everything that they are missing has come back to them, like they are finally complete after years of being devoid of that which they need. Ichigo sets up a slow, steady rhythm, and she follows willingly, loving the way he fills her, as if it goes beyond the physical, as if he is pouring all of his emotions into her. She feels the familiar warmth in her loins growing and building and burning, twisting inside of her, and spreading like a wildfire, until it crashes down upon her in waves and waves of ecstasy. Not too long after, he follows, emptying himself with a loud, long groan of satisfaction.

They hold each other for a long time afterwards, not saying a word (not _having_ to). She threads her fingers through his hair as his breathing gradually slows down. They are both warm and sticky, but it feels pleasant to lay together like this, close and without the barrier of clothes, almost as if they are melding into one another.

Her chin is resting on his shoulder, so she cannot see his face, but she does not need to; she knows that his demons still chase him behind his closed lids. His dreams are frequent, each more gruesome and disturbing than the last. He tells her about them, but only in sparing detail, keeping the worst to himself.

Ichigo is the King; they both know that. After all this time he has finally built the mental and physical fortitude to keep the monster inside of him under control. He has not however, stripped the hollow of its powers, and it will continue to visit and torment him in his dreams until Ichigo destroys it, or vice versa.

"You're mine," he says suddenly and softly, voice raspy. "And I am yours."

"Yes," she replies, choking a little, and it serves to comfort more than it does to affirm. "No one else's."

She wishes that she could offer him more comfort than that, but she knows all too well what he is afraid of; what he _has_ to fear, despite all the progress that he has made. And though she loathes to admit it, deep down, a part of her is afraid too.

* * *

_Any good rider, any good _king, _eventually becomes one with his horse._

* * *

**A/N:** This is one of the darkest things I've ever written (at least in terms of sexual activity). I normally stay away from non-con, and hollow!Ichigo has never really interested me, but I thought I'd try it out. 

(Also: whoo hoo! I'm done! I'm pretty proud of myself for finishing this challenge, since I have never to date EVER finished any series that I'm writing, unless you count _Notes_. I fail.)

Last of all, thank you all so much for following this series, and reading, whether you commented or not. It always makes to happy to have people read and like my stuff. Much love to everyone who commented; it seriously makes me happy to hear what you guys think. You're invaluable! (: Thanks a lot, guys. See you next time around. :D


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